


We Keep this Love in a Photograph

by 88problems



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Head canon Peggy was Tony's god mother, I Made Myself Cry, Ignores Civil War, Minor Character Death, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Peggy was involved in Tony's life, Photographs, Post-Avengers (2012), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, but only mentioned, hurt comfort, ignores winter soldier, very self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11099445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88problems/pseuds/88problems
Summary: One of the last photo’s catches his eye, its one of the few in bright color; a small boy, about a year old he thinks, bedecked in a bright blue Captain America onesie with a small plastic shield he appears to be teething on. His bright brown eyes are wide and focused on something in the background, probably a toy to grab the small boys attention for the photo. Steve smiles a little at the ridiculous nature of the kid’s outfit; of course Peggy would have gotten her friends child a gift like that. He turns the photo over and feels his heart nearly stop.‘For Tony Stark, you have been one of my greatest loves. Be careful, Anthony. They do not deserve you. Tony, Age 1, 1971′Imagine after the death of Peggy Carter Steve helps her next of kin clean out her long term care room, in doing so he stumbles across a photograph of Tony as an infant and immediately leaves to confront his friend. Why would Tony have kept this secret from him? This summary is terrible, I promise the fic is better!





	We Keep this Love in a Photograph

Inspired by [this](https://briefpaperexpert.tumblr.com/post/161397677299/itsagentromanoff-peggy-to-a-young-tony-you) beautiful post on Tumblr where my original version of this fic exists (my handle is [@briefpaperexpert](https://briefpaperexpert.tumblr.com/) if anyone would like to come say hi), the art was created by[ @artingkrusca](http://artingkrusca.tumblr.com/) and the caption by [@itsagentromanoff ](http://itsagentromanoff.tumblr.com/) 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I’ll take a look in here Ana,” Steve breathes out as he wipes the sweat from his temple; the small oscillating fan does nothing for the stagnant warm air that hangs in the afternoon sun as it streams in through the small window of what was once Peggy Carter’s room.

 

Ana and Laura, her surviving children and two of the sweetest ladies -in his opinion- Steve had ever had the pleasure of meeting after discovering Peggy had still been alive, had personally extended an invitation to their mother’s funeral once she had passed on a week prior.

 

“You don’t have to stay and pack Steven, you’ve helped us out tremendously by moving the large furniture,” Laura says with an exasperated grin. She pauses to tape up the small moving box in front of her and grabs a marker from the back pocket of her faded jeans.

 

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles, one hand travels to the back of his neck while the other tucks into the pocket of his cargo shorts, “You didn’t have to invite me to the funeral or let me see her before she…” his throat tightens slightly as he trails off.

 

“Not for family,” Ana says  as she moves past Steve with the box in her arms, “and after hearing our mother’s stories for thirty years, you’re pretty much as good as.” Laura chuckles behind her sister and nods, the tightness in Steve’s throat loosens ever so slightly.

 

“If it means that much to you, you could take a look in the closet,” Laura calls as she follows Ana to the door with her own box, “We’re going to start loading the car.”

 

Steve nods with a smile and turns to the small walk in closet behind him, as he steps over the threshold he spots a small chest of drawers, another piece of furniture he missed. It’s tucked away behind a myriad of coats and fancy dress items Peggy had worn less and less as the years went by, if the layer of dust was any indication. Either way, it would need to be cleaned out before he could move it.

 

Steve jiggles the handle slightly and winces at the high pitched whine of warped wood and metal, it’s stuck a little but he gingerly pries it open, not wanting to rip the decrepit old thing apart with his enhanced strength.

 

The drawer pops open with a harsh thunk but all worry about damaging the piece of furniture flies out of Steve’s head at the sight of its contents,  “Oh Pegs,” he says softly.

 

There are photographs, many faded in black and white while others stand out in stark saturated color, next to long letters written in the long loopy cursive Steve had come to love in his short time of knowing her. What surprises him, however, is the fact that Howard appears to be in the majority of the photos, sometimes next to Peggy herself but much of the time he is pictured standing next to a small blond woman with warm brown eyes and the brightest smile that Steve can’t help but think of as familiar. He turns the faded photo over to see the caption, and runs his fingers fondly over the loops and strokes of her faded pencil.

 

 _‘Howard Stark a_ _nd Maria Carbonell 1962″_

 

Steve’s eyes narrow as they pass over the name Carbonell once more, he’s certain he’s heard that name before but he can’t seem to place it. He begins stacking the photo’s on the top of the desk to bring them out for Laura and Ana, he can hear them chat quietly as they enter the room once more to grab more boxes.

 

One of the last photo’s catches his eye, its one of the few in bright color; a small boy, about a year old he thinks, bedecked in a bright blue Captain America onesie with a small plastic shield he appears to be teething on. His bright brown eyes are wide and focused on something in the background, probably a toy to grab the small boys attention for the photo. Steve smiles a little at the ridiculous nature of the child’s outfit; of course Peggy would have gotten her friends child a gift like that. He turns the photo over and feels his heart nearly stop.

 

_‘For Tony Stark, you have been one of my greatest loves. Be careful, Anthony. They do not deserve you. Tony, Age 1, 1971′_

 

Peggy knew Tony? The thought sinks heavily into Steve’s chest. So Carbonell must have been Maria’s maiden name, it makes sense that Peggy would have known Tony -and cared for him a great deal by the look of it- and continued to be friends with Howard long after the war.

 

But why hadn’t Tony said anything…

 

He tucks the photo into his back pocket and grabs the remaining stack to bring out for the other two women in the room.

 

With a hurried apology and excuse to leave, Steve places the photo’s in Ana’s small hands and flees the room.

 

 _Why_ hadn’t Tony said anything?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve enters the lab with a muttered thanks to Jarvis and makes his way to Tony who looks briefly at him with a smile, Maria’s smile, before turning back to the suit in front of him.

 

“How did it go?” Tony says, it sounds offhand but Steve can see the tense line of his shoulders and the way his grin doesn’t seem to reach his eyes anymore.

 

“Fairly well, Laura and Ana had a lot of it packed away before I got there,” he shifts uncomfortably as the photo in his back pocket seems to burn the longer he stalls, “they just needed help with some of the furniture.”

 

He has so many questions, why didn’t Tony attend the funeral? Why didn’t he ever talk about her? Did she mean so little to him? Steve swallows roughly and steadies himself.

 

Tony snorts and spins to look at Steve, “Good thing they called a super soldier to help go through everything then.” His grin has all but faded now and a bitterness begins to bloom behind his warm brown eyes.

 

“I offered,” Steve says softly as he pulls the photo from his back pocket and places it on the worktable to Tony’s left, “at the funeral, I approached them and asked if they needed anything.”

 

Tony is silent for a moment, frozen, as he stares at the photo beside him. His eyes close and he takes a long breath in through his nose.

 

“Well I guess that just makes you a saint then doesn’t it.”

 

When Tony’s eyes open they shine in the low light of the lab; the warmth that previously lit them up has disappeared leaving them hard like chips of flint.

 

“No,” Steve says, his voice flat, “but I was there.”

 

 _And you weren’t_ is left unsaid.

 

Tony doesn’t reply and Steve doesn’t wait to hear one; he turns on his heel and swiftly exits the lab leaving Tony with the photo.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve heads to the communal kitchen after splitting open two of the punching bags in the training room upstairs; he feels jittery, adrenalin continues to shoot pins and needles through his arms and legs, and yet completely exhausted. Confronting Tony in his lab had been emotionally draining and left him with more questions than answers.

 

Steve rubs boths eyes with his left hand as he stoops down to open the fridge and look in the door for his carton of skim milk and a bottle of water. The sun is beginning to set as it streams in through the wall to ceiling windows in the living room, painting the adjacent kitchen the colour of spun gold. He doesn’t need to bother with the lights just yet, he thinks absently.

 

A small voice startles Steve as he reaches for the carton.

 

“I did go,” Tony mutters hoarsely, his eyes are slightly red and glittering in the light of the open fridge, “I was at the back.”

 

Steve sets the container down on the island counter between them and frowns at this new piece of information, “but why didn’t you-”

 

“They asked me not to come.” Tony says in a quiet voice.

 

Steve blanches, why would Laura and Ana ask someone who had obviously known their mother all his life not to come, someone who had be important to her if the caption on the photo held any grain of truth.

 

Tony sighs and sits at one of the stools beside the island, “I’m a few years older than her kids and so when I was having…” he hesitates as if to roll the words around on his tongue to measure their impact before releasing them, “problems…drinking, sleeping around, the merchant of death business, and now the Avengers,” he glances up at Steve before continuing, “they thought it would be better if I didn’t come around as often, trouble seems to follow me like a bad smell you know?”

 

“But I went, they asked me to come and I-”

 

“You’re Captain America,” Tony smiles but it’s tired and a little sad, “they grew up hearing all the wonderful stories about Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth Steve, why wouldn’t they let you come.” His fingers drum patterns into the granite countertop as he looks off into the darkening living room, “I grew up hearing the same stories,” he whispers, “I don’t blame them.”

 

He seems so small like this, so much...less, Steve thinks as he watches Tony stare at the New York skyline. His brown eyes, red rimmed, shine in the evaporating sunlight. Steve wonders how many people have seen Tony like this.  

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve says eventually, he feels his heart clench in his chest at the prospect of Tony dealing with Peggy’s death all by himself.

 

“She was yours Steve, why would I take that away from you? Your chance to see her while you still could, mourn her with her family? How could I take that away from you-”

 

“You wouldn’t have taken anything from me,” Steve hisses over Tony as he stands abruptly to move around the island, Tony flinches at the sudden movement and makes to stand, “we could have shared everything!”

 

Steve pulls him into his arms, Tony is still for a moment, Steve braces himself for an angry verbal onslaught, before giving into the hug and leaning into Steve’s broad chest.

 

“Why would you do that?” Tony asks, his words muffled slightly as he pointedly looks away.

 

“Because you were family too,” he says, straining to keep his voice even as he feels Tony’s shoulders hitch and tense in his arms.  

 

Steve continues to hold Tony in the darkening kitchen as the last of the sunlight fades from gold to smokey grey, and if he begins to feels the front of his shirt become slightly damp, Steve merely holds Tony tighter and watches the twilight take over the sky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was incredibly wonderful to write, I hope you enjoyed my self indulgent ramblings!


End file.
